


Fish out of Water

by Zemmiphobia



Series: To Raise a Child [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blade of Marmora Keith, Families of Choice, Galra Dads, Gen, Keith raised by Blade of Marmora AU, Not canon compliant as of S3, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zemmiphobia/pseuds/Zemmiphobia
Summary: There was a child went forth every day;And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for manyyears, orstretching cycles of years.-Walt Whitman





	

It’s a soft sob, muffled and _heartbreaking_ , that makes him pause outside of the storeroom door.

Technically, it’s not his job to investigate. Any cadets found out of bed at second bell are the responsibility of the teachers, all that’s required of him is a double hallway patrol and a quick check of the bathrooms. He’s got his own curfew to worry about not to mention an essay due tomorrow morning.

Still, something about the tiny noise of distress just… pulls him.

He glances around quickly, looking for any teachers who might be lingering around the corner, and then knocks softly on the door.

The sounds cut off immediately, leaving a pregnant silence. Shiro shoots another look up the hall and leans in.

“Hey, mind if I open the door?” he whispers, hand on the doorpad. The silence stretches, drawn out by the empty hall and the looming presence of teachers he knows are just out of sight. Just when he thinks he’ll have to leave the student to their fate, he hears a quiet ‘ _ok_ _’_.

Typing a quick code, the door slides open and there, tucked away under a forest of mops, brooms, and cleaning robots, is a small first year.

He’s tiny, Shiro thinks as he draws up his best ‘I’m your friend’ smile. Maybe the shortest first year he’s seen yet and they all look pretty small to him.

“I’m going to come in.” He says, waiting for the kid to nod before he steps into the small room, letting the door hiss shut behind him. The first-year watches him, curled over his knees until all Shiro can see is the faint shine of his eyes in the gloom. “My name is Shiro,” he says, sitting down and crossing his legs, “what’s yours?” The kid stares at him, shoulders tense. It’s not hard to figure out why. Once Shiro has his name, it’d take less than a conversation to have the poor kid on latrine duty for missing curfew. And that’d only be if it was first offense. Shiro had been a first year once, kids who hide in cleaning closets to cry generally don’t do it just once.

“I’m a third year.” He adds, though he’s sure the kid knows already. The other boy says nothing but Shiro can see the way he’s clenching his fingers into his arms. He looks around, trying to think of something to add. “Man, this brings back memories,” he finally says, opting to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling. “I haven’t done this in years. I think that’s even the same cleaner I doodled on.” He waves a hand at the robot by the boy’s elbow. If he squints he thinks he can make out the image of an angry Captain Delwatts drawn in black marker. “I can’t believe they didn’t clean that off.” He’s admiring his thirteen-year-old artist talent when the other kid finally breaks the silence.

“You,” his voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, “you drew that?”

Shiro grins, pleased at his success.

“Yeah! Angry eyebrows and everything. They had me cleaning windows for six months, I don’t think my back ever recovered.” He rolls his shoulder and groans like an old man. The kid chuckles, the sound muffled through his knees.

“It’s… good.” He says after a moment. Then, oddly, he thrusts his hand straight into Shiro’s face. “Keith,” he says, not looking up, “my name is Keith.” Shiro stares at the hand but it stays, wavering slightly at nose level. After a moment, he gently gasps it and gave it a small shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Keith.” He says, bemused. Quick as a fish, the hand darts back into the safety of Keith’s knees. Shiro rubs his nose. The silence stretches.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Shiro finally asks when it gets unbearable. “I mean, you don’t have to.” He adds quickly when Keith’s shoulders hike up another inch, “but it might, make you feel better? I promise anything you say stays here.”

Keith says nothing. Shiro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, you remember that speech Lieutenant Mackenzie gave at the start of term? About being a solider and working for the good of Earth?” Keith nods, miserable.

“Soldiers don’t cry.” He parrots softly, looking ready to do just that.

“Well its total crap.”

Keith’s jaw drops, eyes wide. Shiro leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he pins Keith with the most serious look he can manage.

“Seriously, forget everything she said. Being a soldier doesn’t mean that your feelings just disappear and it wouldn’t make you a good one if they did.” He lays a hand on Keith’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. “Emotions are what make us good soldiers, they tell you when you’re going in the right direction. You can’t let them control you but ignoring them means you’re missing important information about a situation.”

“You…” Keith takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “You sound like my dad.”

“Yeah? I’m guessing he’s a pretty smart guy, right? You should listen to him.”

“I miss him.” Keith blurts out almost before Shiro finishes his sentence. “I miss all of them, I just… I want to go _home_.”

Shiro can’t resist any more and opens up his arms, unsurprised when Keith throws himself into them. Wrapping his arms around the smaller kid, Shiro tucks him under his chin.

“That’s ok,” he says into the boy’s hair, “it’s ok to miss home. I miss mine too. I miss my mom and my grandma but I know they’re proud of me for staying. Do you think your dad is proud of you?” Keith nods into Shiro’s chest, his face buried in the fabric. “Good, that’s good.”

“It’s important.” Keith says quietly. “I have to be here because its important and I can protect my family if I stay.” He sounds a little like he’s quoting someone but Shiro doesn’t ask. After a moment, Keith adds “my dad… uh, my second one, he’s…” Keith’s voice breaks a little, “he’s not safe right now. He’s fighting and if I stay here I can help him.”

Army brat, Shiro thinks with a sudden realization. His dad, at least one of them, is probably active duty. Poor kid.

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, running a hand over Keith’s hair like his Baba liked to do. “You’ll be great and become an amazing pilot. Your dads will be so happy when you graduate, right? You just got to get there first. Five years will fly by.”

At the first touch of his fingers, all the tension melts out of Keith until the pre-teen was a boneless weight against Shiro’s chest. The change is so sudden Shiro nearly topples over. Floundering, he manages to distribute the weight before his head slams into the wall. Cautiously, he runs his hand over Keith’s hair again and swears he can hear the kid purr.

“Right,” he says for lack of anything better to say, embarrassed to feel his check heating up. He moves his hand down and awkwardly pats Keith on the shoulder. “Ok, do you feel better now?” Keith nods, not looking up from where he has his face pressed into the crook of Shiro’s arm. “Great,” Shiro coughs and gently shoves Keith up. “Let’s head back to your dorm. If you’re out any later, they’re going to notice.”

Keith nods and allows Shiro to pull them both to their feet, oddly docile. Shiro figures he’s probably tired. Crying can be exhausting, especially after a full day of classes. He slides the door open and checks the hall. With the coast clear, he pulls the younger student behind him, heading for the first year dorms.

Their luck holds all the way down with not a teacher in sight. The room is dark, filled with the soft breathing of a dozen other students. If any of the boys notice them, they’re kind enough not to say anything. Shiro turns to look at Keith, who is looking up at him with an odd expression of concentration, as if he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“Looks good.” Shiro pats Keith on the shoulder again, smiling. “If you need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to come find me. I spend most of my time in the library or in training room 233C. Don’t worry if the other third years tease you, they don’t bite.” He pauses. “Actually, stay away from Boyd, the big one with the blue hair, he’s… uh, not very nice.”

Keith nods solemnly.

“Thank you.” He says and then, to Shiro’s complete bafflement, reaches up to _lick_ Shiro. One broad swipe up his check. Before Shiro can even began to respond, the smaller boy disappears into the darkness. Shiro stares after him, opens his mouth, and then closes it with a shake of his head. Better not to ask.

~-~

Eventually, they have a routine. It’s not often, not even usual, but occasionally Keith will just appear at Shiro’s elbow like a tiny, solemn eyed shadow. Sometimes they sit together in the library, Shiro patiently explaining a problem to Keith while the kid writes notes. Other times they buy drinks from the canteen and just bask in the sun outside the mess hall while Keith tells him something about his life.

Shiro learns that Keith is shy, awkward, and has not two but _four_ dads, all of whom live very far away and are in the military. He’s never seen Keith with a letter from home, never heard him talk about anything more recent than when he left for the academy, but it’s not hard to hear how much he loves his family when he describes them. Shiro finds it makes his own homesickness more bearable when he can trade stories and before he knows it, he’s considering Keith, a kid three years younger than him, his closest friend. He’s not sure what that says about him.

The other third years notice almost immediately and, predictably, he gets a lot of teasing. _A lot_. As in one of the girls in his bio class asking him good naturedly if he was preparing for fatherhood. There had also been some winking.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the teachers noticed too.

“Take a seat Cadet Shirogane.”

Shiro drops his salute and takes the offered chair, hands on his knees, back straight. The dean studies him from the other side of the desk, hands laced in front of him.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?” He asks mildly.

“No, sir.” Shiro fights to keep his fingers from clenching. _But I have a pretty good idea_.

The dean hmm’s thoughtfully, sounding neither believing or disbelieving. The clock ticks steadily in the silence.

“You are one of our best students.” The dean says, finally, leaning back in his chair. “Some say the best we’ve ever had. You’re a mentor, a leader, and one day you’ll be a damn good soldier.” Shiro dips his head respectfully and the dean continues. “Your teachers laud your accomplishments… with just one exception.” Shiro tenses. “Your _sentimentality_.”  

“Sir—

The dean waves away Shiro’s small protest.

“Don’t bother your head about it, Shirogane, you’re young. No one expects it to last forever. However, as your instructors, it is our duty to set down the building blocks you will need in your future career. So you can understand our concern when we learned that you had…” the dean pauses, tapping his desk thoughtfully, “taken a younger student under your wing.”

“Sir, my relationship with Keith is strictly as a mentor.” Shiro struggles to breath normally, forcing most of the words brimming on his tongue down his throat. “I offer him tutoring when he needs it, nothing more.”

“Oh, there’s no question of that.” The dean says with a laugh that makes Shiro deeply, to his bones, uncomfortable. “Your classmates all have testified that you’re never alone together and stay to open areas. We’re more concerned with your mental development. Yours and Mr. Kogane. You have bigger things to be worrying about that shepherding a lower classmate and Mr. Kogane needs to become more independent. His teachers are already concerned with his social growth. It’s not surprising, I suppose, given his circumstances.” The dean sighs, sounding for all the world like a worried grandfather. Shiro stares at him.

“Sir?”

The dean blinks, adjusting his spectacles.

“You don’t know? I assumed Mr. Kogane would have mentioned it. He lost his parents in a car crash when he was an infant. He’s been in foster care before it was decided, when he finished our aptitude test, that he would be a better fit here.”

Shiro sucks in a breath, feeling as though he’d be stabbed.

“No, sir, it was not mentioned. We mostly talk about his studies. We did not have a personal relationship.” Shiro says, feeling numb.

The dean smiles.

“Of course, Mr. Shirogane, mentoring looks great on a resume. Just be careful not to let it go too far, hmm? Graduation is just around the corner. Well, that was all I needed to talk about. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Shiro rises woodenly, salutes, and leaves. The door slides shut behind him, leaving him alone in the brightly lit hallway. He takes a deep breath, forces his face into an easy smile, and heads towards the library.

_Foster care._

Shiro closes his eyes against a wave of sadness and waves cheerfully at one of his classmates.

 _Sentimentality_.

It would take work. More now that he knew his teachers were watching but damn if Shiro was going to leave Keith to the wolves.

He steps into the library and is greeting with the sight of Keith sitting at their usual table, homework spread out before him like an animal carcass. He looks worried, tense. In the corner of the room, the librarian looks up from her desk and smiles at Shiro. He smiles back and comes to a stop at Keith’s table.

“Hey, Keith.” He says cheerfully, “I can’t study with you today, some last-minute assignments came up.” Keith’s face falls. “But I can give you a page number with some practice guides that will help.” He takes a piece of paper and jotts down the room number of a cleaning closet and slides it over. Keith stares at it for a moment, face twisted in confusion before realization dawns on his face. He looks back up, eyes scanning his face before nodding and slipping the paper into his bag.

“Hopefully it won’t take all night.”

He pats Keith on the head and turns, walking past the front desk and back out the door without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on the next chapter of It Takes a Village, I just was inspired and wanted to get this out while it was in my head. It is set in the same universe, ten years later. Hopefully it will be one of many.


End file.
